


Nyayaneeti

by CarminaVulcana



Category: Baahubali (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 21:35:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18819460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarminaVulcana/pseuds/CarminaVulcana
Summary: Baahubali's morals are different from those of the people around him. Do his ethics extend to traitors like Saket?





	Nyayaneeti

**Author's Note:**

  * For [avani](https://archiveofourown.org/users/avani/gifts).



He paced restlessly in his room. A glass of warm milk sat untouched beside his bed. A half-penned letter waited on the desk for its writer to return. The ink on the quill became dry and crusty as the minutes went by.

Amarendra Baahubali would not sacrifice his morals. The last two hours had been trying for him. Hell, the entire day had been a nightmare.

But at least they had caught Saket.

However, they were no closer to finding out who he had sent their military secrets to.

And Baahubali was convinced that the current methods of extracting information were not only abhorrent, they were also completely useless.

Unable to take it anymore, he decided to intervene.

As he walked down the various hallways and staircases, he could not help but think how cold the walls of the palace were.

And the dungeons were even colder.

Why did a palace need a dungeon? Sure, during his education, he had been taught about interrogation techniques. But now that a real, living human being was being subjected to those, it made him sick with revulsion.

Torture rooms. Dungeons. They were immoral.

And if he became king, those rooms would be converted to storage facilities.

But that was all in the future.

Right now, he had a job to do.

As he neared his destination, a horrible screech pierced the air.

It was unbelievable that the human throat was capable of producing such an inhuman sound.

But it didn’t stop there. The scream turned into a gasping wail that echoed through the mostly hollow walls.

Baahubali steeled himself for what he would find.

And as expected, it was not pretty.

Saket’s hands were bound in front of him. Katappa was overseeing the questioning while a whipmaster brought down a long, thin rattan cane on the hapless man’s already bloodied palms.

“Aaaaargh,” Saket gurgled in pain. His lips were cut and there was blood on his face.

It was obvious he had already been subjected to a great degree of harsh treatment. The wounds on his chest made Baahubali’s stomach turn.

The whipmaster raised the cane again.

But just as it whistled through the air, Baahubali barked out his orders.

“Stop,” he said. “He has had enough.”

“Baahu, this is how it works,” Katappa’s voice was stern. “You have no experience with interrogation. Please leave this to us.”

But the younger prince would not allow this barbarity to go on.

“No, mama,” he stood his ground. “You have no way of determining the veracity of claims made under such duress. And I don’t think torturing him to death will give us anything. I want to talk to him. Alone.”

“But Baahu,” Katappa tried to reason with him.

“Please, mama. Don’t force me to make it a command.”

The old slave-soldier visibly flinched at those words. And Baahubali hated himself for having caused such hurt to his dear friend and mentor.

But as he reminded himself yet again, he had more pressing matters to deal with first.

“As you wish, Yuvaraj,” Katappa bowed deeply and motioned the other guards and soldiers to leave as well. The whipmaster had a slight smirk on his face as he left the dungeon.

He had heard all about the younger prince’s bravery in battle. But he was too soft for these tasks that only real men could do. And that is why he secretly rooted for Bhallaladeva. Now he was someone who could truly be a king and rule with an iron fist. What did soft-hearted Baahubali know about any of it?

Once he was sure that they were truly alone, Baahubali closed the door to the dungeon and poured a class of cold water for Saket.

“I am sorry for how you have been treated,” his words were filled with remorse and he found it hard to meet the eyes of the now-disgraced chief secretary.

“Just get it over with,” Saket growled. His defiance was real, but fear and exhaustion were unmistakable in his voice. The way his eyes lingered upon the glass of water further strengthened Baahubali’s resolve to get rid of the archaic and reprehensible practice of torture.

“I do not wish to cause you harm,” Amarendra said. “Just tell me what we need to know. You can have food, medicine, and a comfortable bed to sleep in once I have the information from you. Here, have some water first.” And with that, he raised the glass to Saket’s lips and helped him drink.

Saket drank greedily and quite a bit of the liquid spilled down his front but he didn’t care. The bone-dry fire in his throat needed to be extinguished.

“More,” he requested.

Without question or comment, Baahubali filled the tumbler again and helped him drink.

“Thank you,” he said gratefully. “I always knew you were better than the rest of them.”

“Then you believe me when I say I won’t harm you.”

“I said better. I never said you were nothing like them. You can’t break me with kindness if that’s why you are here.”

“I am not here to break you. I just want to know why. Why did you betray Mahishmati?”

“Why does anyone betray the only home they have ever known?” Saket answered Baahubali’s question with one of his own. His gaze was haunted as his eyes searched the younger man’s face for an answer.

For a long moment that seemed to stretch into an eternity, nothing was said.

“It couldn’t have been money,” Baahubali whispered, eliciting a hollow laugh from the prisoner.

“Money,” Saket licked his lips. “Money. I had enough money always. So much gold that I could buy my own kingdom and crown myself its sovereign if I so desired. But you, little prince, are too naïve. Or are you?”

“Why? I just…”

“Oh yeah, I know. You can’t believe someone as loyal as myself would betray my country yadda yadda yadda. But I didn’t betray my country per se. This isn’t my country.”

Now Baahubali was confused.

“You just said this has been the only home you have ever known.”

“That… is true. But home can mean many things. To you, it probably means your little safe haven, where everyone you love belongs and where you will always be welcome. To me, it was nothing but the only stop in my journey. And my journey has always had a singular goal.”

“And what is that goal?”

“Handing over the keys to this kingdom to my true master. Nothing more. Nothing less. I was born for this. I was raised for this. I was sent to Mahishmati for this. And now I have accomplished my task. Go ahead. Kill me now.”

“And who are your true masters?” Baahubali’s voice remained controlled even though he could feel the lava of rage rising through him. It was utterly discomforting that all these years, Saket’s loyalty had been nothing but a farce.

“I will only answer that where everyone can hear it,” Saket said grandly. “If those will be my last words, I want them to be remembered as prophecy.”

“I wish I had known you had such a flair for dramatics,” Baahubali muttered under his breath. “You would have certainly been better of as an actor.”

“Well, that was exactly who I was,” Saket shot back. “I have really sharp ears. Sorry, but I heard you quite clearly. And wouldn’t you agree I was indeed a brilliant actor all these years.”

Baahubali did not dignify that with a response. Instead he turned on his heel and left the room. He was certain Saket would reveal who he had sent their military secrets to. And the Rajmata needed to call an audience with the council of ministers so they could all hear what the traitorous chief secretary had to say. Besides, he needed to clear his head. This had been too much to take in; even for him.

*****

“A hundred thousand men,” Saket announced in his dead, doom-filled tone. “Just as a maddened bull reduces a field to barrenness, the Kalakeya create graveyards wherever they attack.”

The calm manner in which he spoke of the fearsome forest tribe troubled Sivagami Devi no end. She hid her shock well but from the corner of his eye, Baahubali saw the turmoil roiling within her.

This most trusted confidante, this scrawny little man she had held in such high regard—how had he simply sold her trust to the devil? Did he have no shame? No conscience? No ties to this land that had nourished him for so long?

She ordered Kattapa to remove him from her sight. It was unthinkable that someone like Saket had put all of them in mortal peril. However, she had complete faith in Baahu and Bhalla. The Kalakeya would be very sorry for ever thinking they could be victorious over Mahishmati or bend her to their sordid will.

“Bhalla, Baahu,” She addressed her sons. “The time to serve your motherland has come. This is it.”

Later in the evening, she sat in front of the idol of the Adi Shakti enshrined in the temple area of her rooms. Her lips prayed soundlessly as she wished for strength and clarity and courage.

Bhalla called a meeting of his trusted military aides to discuss the strategy for the upcoming battle.

But Baahubali was somewhere else.

The uppermost floors of the palace were clean and serviceable. They were neither guest rooms nor servant rooms. But they could be turned into whatever they needed to be.

Saket was puzzled beyond belief when he found himself in one of these rooms, complete with a clean bed, a chair, and some food, water, and medicinal ointments kept in a basket just inside the door.

“Yuvaraj Baahubali believes in basic dignity even for animals like you,” Katappa spat in his face as he locked him in.

For a long time, Saket simply wondered about this turn of events. And he could not, for the life of him, rationalize the younger prince’s actions. He did not dare to touch the food and the water for fear of being poisoned.

But then again, he had almost killed himself yesterday in order to protect his secret. If death was coming for him, at least he would be fed and watered when it arrived. And so, he allowed himself a few bites of the apple and the bread. The water soothed his scratchy vocal folds as he sipped it slowly, savoring each little drop.

Several hours passed and he felt fine.

“I am not dying today, then,” he said out loud.

Just then, he heard the rumble of a key turning. With a little creak, Baahubali opened the door and entered in without permission.

“Thank you for the hospitality,” Saket said with a smirk. “You now know everything. What else can I do for you, dear Yuvaraj.”

“Nothing really,” Baahubali said. “The Kalakeya will lose tomorrow and you will have failed in your endeavor. You will perhaps be exiled. Or maybe, you will spend the rest of your days in prison. The chances of an execution are small, but I won’t deny they are there.”

“I deserve no mercy and you know it,” Saket ground out. “My job here is done. I couldn’t care less what you do to me.”

“Good,” Baahubali answered. “Then I hope you will enjoy watching the battle from the frontlines tomorrow. And when all is said and done, you will reflect and repent.”

“What makes you think I won’t be killed if it indeed comes to that?”

“Sivagami Devi is not that kind. And neither am I.”

Baahubali smiled at him. “Get some rest. You will need it.”

But Saket did not sleep at all that night. He prayed the Kalakeya would win. Or else, he would forever be remembered as the dishonored one among his people… the one that lived; he who chose mercy over martyrdom. 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
